


alone together

by tianhuo



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tianhuo/pseuds/tianhuo
Summary: “A’ight, cool,” Smoothie twirls his keys around— them occasionally smacking his wrist from time to time— “call us if you do want something.”As the crew files out the door, he turns around really quickly, “Oh, and one more thing,” he grins, “don’t get too… you know— while we’re gone, okay? We’re not going to be gone for that long.”“Psh,” Jensen snickers, “no promises.” And then they were gone— leaving you and Jensen to stand at the front door by yourselves.





	

“Do you want us to bring you guys anything back?”

 

It was any typical day in the C9 household. And a lot of things had to happen to account for one of those. One of which being that you are a lazy fuck who doesn’t feel like leaving the comfort of his home. 

 

“I’m good,” Jensen replies, “I’m not really that hungry.”

 

“Same,” you say.

 

“A’ight, cool,” Smoothie twirls his keys around— them occasionally smacking his wrist from time to time— “call us if you do want something.”

 

As the crew files out the door, he turns around really quickly, “Oh, and one more thing,” he grins, “don’t get too… you know— while we’re gone, okay? We’re not going to be gone for  _ that  _ long.”

 

“Psh,” Jensen snickers, “no promises.” And then they were gone— leaving you and Jensen to stand at the front door by yourselves. You lock the door behind them.

 

Had it been before you and Jensen were together— that awkward, yet cheery period of time, blushes shared, awkward kisses to be had— your cheeks would have flushed with a crimson so ferocious and intense, you could’ve been mistaken for the Infernal Drake. Well, if you hadn’t become good at hiding your blushes. You were always an easy blusher (at least, according to Jensen— oh, who are you kidding? You’ve always been an easy blusher, and you know it), and you had become quite good at hiding it over the years of practice— practice of making your face pale to mask that crimson with a stark, papery white. You guess you could’ve been mistaken for the Cloud Drake instead.

 

“Dude,” Jensen goes, walking down the hall to his room, “are you coming, or are you just going to stand there like a dumbass?” It was a customary practice for you to “stand there like a dumbass,” when it came to Jensen, but this time, you actually  _ were  _ just standing there like a dumbass— a dumbass lost in thought— so you just grin and follow him. 

 

The two of you didn’t stream if you weren’t already when the others left the house— a thing they had mysteriously been doing more often, as instigated by Smoothie— it would have been a waste of the time you had together. Well, no, it wasn’t a waste of time to do  _ anything  _ with Jensen, and it surely wasn’t a waste of time to entertain the people who were supporting you. But it would be a waste of the time you two were  _ alone  _ together. 

 

Perhaps that was why Smoothie and co. were going out, leaving the two of you alone at home more often. This thought crosses your mind as Jensen shuts his bedroom door behind him, locking it.

 

“Ooh, holy shit,” you go, “locking the door?” You raise your left eyebrow, and tilt your head at him. “What are you planning to do with me?”

 

He breathes heavily through his nostrils, and tenses his shoulders up— feigning frustration with you, playing a game, as always— “Just chill out? You’ll find out soon?”

 

“I wanna know now.” You give a mild whine, snatching his hand, and pressing yourself against him. “We cuddling again?”

 

His shoulders relax. He’s not acting anymore; he turns around, with this dumbass look on his face— sheepish and embarrassed. “I actually do just want to cuddle.”

 

“Again?” You try to feign a look of disappointment, but you can’t really do it— neither of you can really hide your affinity for each other (although it was much more than “affinity” nowadays), much less look disappointed at what the other has suggested to do— “Is Yensen stressed out from all the plays he made last game?”

 

He breathes in— a deep breath— “Yeah, bro. I can’t help it. It’s just— I’m just so good at this game.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

He smiles. At you. It’s great. It’s one of the best feelings in the world. “It’s like— I’m just so tired from always having to carry my ADC, you know?”

 

“Oh, I know,” you go, not really in the mood for banter anymore, wrapping your arms around him— his slender, incomplete waist and the cat-like curve of his back, “I know. So let’s cuddle. Before that, though…” You lean in, and so does he— you two know the drill. This practice has been burnt into the two of you just as much as last-hitting the minions, or warding over the wall has. 

 

Your faces meet halfway, and every so gently in the middle. You remember how the first some times had been— fireworks, explosions, passionate. Stars had infused with stars, swelled up, and exploded behind your eyes in bursts of light and color. A fire ignited in your heart— or had it always been there, maybe, since the beginning of time? The first time you had stepped on stage? Or, maybe, the first time you had stayed up all night, streaming and memeing late into the night with Jensen?

 

This time is different, though. Sometimes it’s different. A lot of the times it’s different. Not to say that the passion between the two of you had fizzled out early— there was no way it was going to let up at any time soon, if all. But sometimes the kisses were just different; like now. 

 

He’s gentle— so gentle with you— a trait that you had come to find from the normally coarse and abrasive Jensen to be a pleasant surprise. He kisses you back, softly, occasionally nipping at your top lip as a joke— and to get the upper hand. His arms find your waist and wrap themselves around it, pulling you in closer— but he’s so gentle when he does it. The kiss is like the first breeze of the familiar, and yet new spring. Gentle. Soothing. Full of hope and the sweetest sort of love, however corny that may sound. He handles you gently, and you, him. It’s hard for you to not completely melt and dive deeper into his arms— so you do just that, and you can tell he is delighted in the way that he kisses you a little harder. It’s not explosive in the slightest— it’s calm, and gentle— like the slow, crashing waves along the shoreline in the summer. 

 

And, yet, it is not lacking in love or passion at all. It’s deep, the kiss— and in that deepness, somewhere in that gentle, clear-watered ocean, lies the match— lit up, casted into your heart. It’s a slow burn, a slow wildfire, gently sweeping the spring leaves and the petals of the recently-bloomed flowers in springtime, setting you on fire with love, ever so gently, ever so slowly. 

 

Time has stopped for the two of you.

 

The clock begins to turn and to tick again when the two of you pull away. You look up at him— that tranquil ocean reflected in his eyes. 

 

“Wow, you really don’t want to cuddle, do you?” He jokes, noting the quiet and soft intensity of the kiss.

 

“Well, now that we got that out of the way I do.” You blush. Hard. Jensen is one of the only people you let see that blisteringly red face that, in reality, comes somewhat often for you. Truthfully, you are not the one who initiates many kisses. But when you do, they seem to follow the pattern of that one…

 

And then the two of you are on his bed, underneath his covers, not quite tangled up in each other just yet. Nights like these became commonplace under this roof.

 

It was weird that something so tender and mushy like this could take place under a roof that has also heard raunchy, inappropriate dick jokes. For sure, this roof has seen and heard some weird shit. And had it not been an inanimate object, it would have been up late, too. Late-night streams with Jensen. Weird dick jokes with Jensen. You and Jensen laughing like a fucking animal. You giggling all nervous like a schoolboy, Jensen getting butterflies in his chest. 

 

But this house has played witness and victim to a lot of feelings too-- some of which simple, some of which complicated.. Nervous. Nervous if you’re going to win this game and become NA’s hope again. Nervous about calling him. Nervous— nervous if he’s going to think you’re cool, or like you or not. Awkwardness. Giddiness. Happiness. Sadness. Vulnerability. Fear. Love.

 

You sigh. The emotional talk has begun.

 

“What’s up?” He asks you, fiddling around with the hem of your shirt. It’s a weird thing he does to fill his time when he’s not doing anything with you— or right next to you. You think it’s really cute.

 

“I was just thinking.”

 

“About?” 

 

You flip over, his eyes catching yours.

 

“You.” 

 

Red travels quickly upon his cheeks-- comparable to the fading light that the sunset casts over the hills, except it’s rising. It’s weird to describe it. All you know is you like it when Jensen blushes. And you like it even more when you’re the cause.

 

“Anything… about me in particular… or?” The red is quickly disappearing.

 

“Just about how I’m in love with you, and stuff,” you say, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss, “the usual.” You can see the disappearing flakes of crimson begin to return.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He cups your face in his hands. His wrists are bony, and protrude a bit into your chin, and his fingers, long and slender, slide along the sides of your face. They’re cold. Jensen is always cold somehow. 

 

Sometimes he plays games with you. Pretends to leave when he doesn’t really want to, just to hear you beg for him to stay. Teases you with almost-kisses, wraps his arms around your waist when you’re walking through the halls of the office, lagging far behind everyone. He’s the “stronger” one of the relationship-- he can bare to tease, to leave, to feign ignorance-- to pretend he doesn’t want you sometimes.  _ A disaster before we were dating,  _ you recall. What a time that was-- your heart surely remembers the tale better than any other fiber of your body does.

 

But when he leans in, and his lips touch yours, and it’s the third time in the past 15 minutes already-- his lips tell a different story. They’re warm. His chest, and his lips-- and his cheeks, if he had been blushing a second ago-- they are all warm. They are the parts of him that you “own”-- that only you get to clutch, brush against, and kiss at the end of the day. Nobody else gets them. Nobody. 

 

Sure, sometimes, he was a slave to the keyboard and the mouse, and the high-resolution dual monitors. And Zirene could steal him away for interviews. And he’d shake hands and hug fans-- but nobody dare came closer than that. Not even the most lovestruck ones (although no one is more lovestruck with Jensen than you) would push for anything beyond that. Once they’d seen the two of you together, conjoint at the hip, practically, they knew-- they knew who belonged to who.

 

And you don’t care. He’s  _ your  _ Jensen.  _ Yours.  _ He’s C9 Jensen, midlaner of Cloud 9, can’t drink black coffee for long, always freezing, takes too many risks in lane sometimes-- and he’s  _ yours.  _ And you’re  _ his.  _

 

And when the two of you pull away, you gaze up at him, into his eyes-- surely looking like a dumbass with a head full of stars and eyes full of hearts. You’re certain it shows when Jensen’s entire face goes red. It’s a flash fire.

 

“H-hey…” He goes, tugging at the neck of his shirt, “why are you looking at me that way?”

 

“I’m looking at you that way,” you say, “because I’m in love with you.”

 

His face lights up like the bottom of a firefly. And he chuckles.

 

“I’m in love with you, too.”

 

You snuggle closer to him. Jensen may be cold, but you’re not uncomfortable at all with him. Maybe the love the two of you have for each other can keep you warm for a very, very long time-- so much that Jensen’s natural coldness may not have any say in that.

 

So you’re going to fall asleep in his arms before the others get back. And someone will probably come looking for the two of you, before opening Jensen’s door and seeing the two of you intertwined on his bed.

 

_ Wait. _

 

“Jensen,” you mumble, shifting around, but unable to worm out of his grasp.   
  


“What?” He says back, quietly, softly, gently-- it’s not helping your sleepy state.

 

“Unlock the door,” you say.

 

“I don’t feel like it.” He pulls you in even closer. It’s warm. 

 

Maybe the door isn’t such a big deal. Everyone else will probably figure out the two of you are together, anyway. 

 

_ We always are.  _

 

\---

 

“Yo, we back!” You call out. You don’t really expect to see Sneaky and Jensen hanging out in the front where you’d left them, so you drop the Chipotle’s on the kitchen counter.

 

You walk around to Sneaky’s room to tell him that you got them some food anyway, because you’re pro-gamers, you’ll stay up late into the night streaming and want fast food-- that’s how you guys were.

 

When you stop at the door, you hesitate. You don’t hear anything. 

 

You press your ear to the door. 

 

Nothing.

 

You knock.

 

Nothing.

 

That might mean they’re in Jensen’s room. That might mean they’re  _ probably  _ in Jensen’s room.

 

Geez, it feels like you’ve only barely supported this guy, and you already know a lot of things about him that you didn’t need to know. That he’s in love with the midlaner. That he might be doing… stuff… with the midlaner.

 

You’re 19, but you feel kind of… uncomfortable now. Maybe it’s best to stop thinking so hard about this.

 

You brace yourself before you turn the doorknob of Jensen’s room.

 

It doesn’t budge.

  
Locked.

 

Your head races with thoughts of what the hell they could be doing in there-- before it occurs to you that you maybe should press your ear to the door and try to hear if they’re alright. 

 

_ Oh, who am I kidding? They’re probably better than alright. _

 

You listen in; there is an eerie absence of noise from within the room. But they must be in there-- otherwise how would the door be locked?

 

Then you hear it-- right before you turn your back on the door. Snoring, albeit soft, quiet, gentle snoring. And not just one person’s.

 

You’re sure it must have seemed weird then, but you can’t help but smile at this. You can’t help but worry about your teammates sometimes, particularly those two. (Maybe it’s your supportive nature?) But you should know by now that if Sneaky is with Jensen-- or if Jensen is with Sneaky, there’s no need to worry. 

 

You’re not too sure why this makes so much sense to you. It just does. Maybe it just makes sense that two people meant to be would never hurt each other-- at least, intentionally. You’re not a naive guy.

 

And you’re not too sure why you’re still here. After asserting there is no reason for you to be, you turn around, and walk away-- down to your own room. So what if Sneaky and Jensen are gay for eachother? And sleep in the same bed together? So what if you were, like, kind of uncomfortable at the prospect of Sneaky and Jensen having hot gay butthole sex underneath the same roof that you, too, were under?

 

Okay, maybe that last one is justifiably uncomfortable. But, whatever.

 

Lovebirds will be lovebirds, you guess.

**Author's Note:**

> Another super old thing I wrote a long time ago and submitted to c9sneaksen @ tumblr. (Probably gonna end up uploading all the stuff I submitted on here.) If you liked this and you like this ship, go check out their tumblr for that Sweet Sneaksen Content™!


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